


i'd cheer for u n me (boom, clap)

by exactly13percent



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Exy (All For The Game), Cheerleaders, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 03:19:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17859266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exactly13percent/pseuds/exactly13percent
Summary: Aaron has a stupid cheerleader friend that Andrew can't stop looking at. (Neil starts looking back, too.)





	i'd cheer for u n me (boom, clap)

**Author's Note:**

> For atmosphere: Boom, Clap by Charli XCX (obviously)

Aaron’s best friend is so fucking annoying.

Lunchtime rolls around and of course, Aaron walks up to the table with Neil hanging on his shoulder. The stupid redhead has his snapback on backwards and his red curls spill out from the front and sides; his freckles are _everywhere_ on his face and his eyes are really blue. He’s also wearing the most obscenely short shorts Andrew has ever seen on anyone except maybe Allison.

“Don’t lie. I saw you looking,” Neil says. He grins wickedly and Andrew kind of wants to slap the look off his face.

Maybe do other things to his face.

Aaron rolls his eyes and dumps his lunch tray on the table. The tater tots in it bounce. “Wow. Big whoop, you saw me looking at my girlfriend.”

“Oh, you’re not embarrassed? Then why did you run away?” Neil waggles his eyebrows and pops a tater tot in his mouth. His legs are stupid and tan, and he throws one casually over the cafeteria table’s bench like his ass isn’t about to fall out of his shorts.

_Is he even allowed to wear shorts that short?_

Andrew never thought he’d be relieved to see Kevin. Unfortunately, Kevin comes attached with Jeremy and Jean. “You need a haircut,” he announces immediately, his fingers skimming Neil’s neck. Andrew does _not_ think about how he’s imagined doing that. “Game’s in two days.”

“Let him live,” Jeremy says. He laughs, and Jean looks at him like he’s the sun. It’s stupid.

Kevin rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “You’re just saying that because you need one, too.”

“Leave us alone,” Neil replies, snarky. He leans over to rest his chin on Jeremy’s shoulder. “How can you be so mean to these innocent faces?”

Jeremy’s smile is all teeth. _Innocent, my ass._

Kevin flips Neil off. Neil just laughs and tears into his ketchup packets. He makes an absurdly large pile on his Styrofoam tray and drops a mini corndog in the mess. He can’t even sit right; one of his legs is bent, knee pulled up to his chest, and the other is awkwardly balanced on Aaron’s lap.

Andrew is one hundred percent certain that Neil is one unfortunate wardrobe malfunction away from being suspended.

 _Whatever._ Andrew is irritated, and he does the only thing he can think of when he’s irritated. He bothers Aaron. “We have a test next period. Are you ready?”

Aaron scowls. He stabs his tater tot with more force than strictly necessary and dunks it in Neil’s ketchup pool. His own packets are unopened on the side of his tray. “ _Yes_.”

Neil’s bright gaze lands on Andrew. His eyes are a little wider than they should be, like he’s watching a soap opera. He’s always annoyingly smug when he watches Andrew interact with his brother. Like he knows some secret Andrew doesn’t.

“Really? You stayed up pretty late,” Andrew muses. He continues the process of spearing as many cubed carrots on his fork as possible. “Missed your first alarm, too.”

“Yeah, I was studying,” Aaron replies. He almost hisses through his teeth.

Aaron realizes his mistake as Andrew leans back, feigning an apologetic grin. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forget that people have to study.”

Neil drinks from his water bottle, eyebrows raised an impressive distance, and looks between the brother.

Whatever argument is about to break out, it’s stopped by the appearance of yet another person Andrew couldn’t care less about. Allison’s glimmering ponytail swings over her shoulder as she approaches; her dress matches her girlfriend’s hair. Renee, Andrew respects. She’s one of the only people at the school that fits the category.

“Hey, babe.” Allison ducks to kiss Neil’s cheek. He grins and turns toward her a little, and it’s strange, because it makes him look less like a smug, snarky asshole and a little more like the dumb teenager that he is.

There’s something truthful in Neil’s smile when he forgets to remember that he’s being watched, and Andrew can’t stop thinking about it.

He blames that smile for sleepless nights and unwarranted thoughts about what Neil’s lips might taste like.

“Hey,” Neil replies happily. He tilts his head, and his cheek squishes against his knee when he looks up at Allison. It is not attractive. _Not_. “You ready for the game?”

The game. All everyone ever talks about around school is stupid lacrosse and the stupid games. It’s like they have collective head trauma.

“Of course,” Allison says airily. She frowns a little and winds a finger through the curls at the base of Neil’s neck. “We need to get you a haircut, though. Got to look your best.”

Allison winks and Neil shrugs. Kevin squawks in protest. “What, so when I say it, it’s wrong?”

“Yes,” everyone at the table says.

Kevin pouts. Predictably. At least his boyfriends are there to console his poor, injured ego. Andrew doesn’t care enough to.

Andrew turns away from Kevin to find Neil looking at him. He’s not sure why and he doesn’t like the curious glimmer in Neil’s blue eyes. He stares back, hard, and Neil’s little secret smile annoys the shit out of him. “Hey,” he says, turning his attention to Allison. “I thought you weren’t allowed to wear your practice gear outside of practice. Your little flyer is going to get himself suspended before the game.”

Allison’s eyebrows arch. She is unimpressed, and besides that—

—she’s _laughing_ at him. Andrew considers how much damage his spork would do.

“Our flyer is just fine,” Allison replies, amused. She pets Neil’s head with her perfectly manicured hands and Andrew kind of wants to smack them. “We have practice after lunch. He’s allowed.”

Andrew can’t say he doesn’t care. He is the one that brought it up.

Allison probably knows that, but she gives him mercy and switches the topic. Andrew is tired of the company. He takes his uneaten food and slides out of his seat.

He tries not to wonder whether Neil’s eyes are on him as he leaves.

☆

Aaron’s brother is kind of cute.

In a grumpy, don’t-talk-to-me-or-I’ll-kill-you kind of way.

“I don’t know.” Neil sighs and reaches for his toes, left arm arched over his torso and right leg. The stretch and bend is easy. It feels nice, after half a day of sitting around in boring classes.

Allison sighs with exaggerated exhaustion. “How do you not know? He knows what a flyer is, for God’s sake.”

“He probably overheard Aaron saying it,” Neil mutters.

It’s not like Andrew actually cares about Neil. Sure, he went through the whole intimidation phase when Neil first started hanging out with Aaron, but that didn’t last too long.

Since then, Neil has come to appreciate Andrew. Understand him, too, even if Aaron gives Neil a disbelieving look whenever Neil claims as much.

Andrew once stabbed someone with a spork. Neil said, _yeah, I get it._ Aaron had just stared and asked, _do you?_

“Jesus. You’re just as bad as he is,” Allison complains. She finishes her stretches and sits beside Neil, offering her hands to help him bend forward. He takes them and leans forward. The splits are one of his favorites, but it’s better when someone else is there to help him stretch as far as he can go.

Neil has the distinct thought that he should probably stop this particular train of thought.

“How so?” Neil manages, his voice a little strained as he holds the position.

“It’s pretty obvious that he looks at you,” Allison says drily. He can almost hear her rolling her eyes. “I don’t think anyone has missed it. Except you.”

Neil slowly inches back into an upright position, frowning. “No, he doesn’t. He hates—”

“He does not hate you,” Allison says, throwing her hands up. “He has the hottest of hots for you, and he is absolutely frustrated about it.”

Neil frowns. “Why would he be frustrated?”

Allison gives him a pitying look. “God, I feel bad for Andrew.”

Neil makes a noise of protest, but Allison is already off toward the practice mat. Dan is about to lead them off.

“Wait!” Neil yells, trying to get his feet beneath him. “WHY WOULD HE BE FRUSTRATED?!”

☆

Andrew almost runs into a mostly-naked Neil after gym. He remembers the showers are two feet to his right, and the curtains could probably be used to strangle someone.

“Whoops,” Neil says immediately. His eyes widen, and he pivots on his heel, hands up in the air. “I’m running late. Didn’t mean to—”

“What? Shower?” Andrew wants to be angrier than he is. He’s too distracted by the dimples at Neil’s lower back, right where the towel is almost falling off his ass.

Neil laughs. It sounds gross. Half-snorting, unsophisticated, and messy. Andrew scowls at his back. “No, I mean—” Neil clears his throat. “You don’t like showering when other people are in here. I didn’t think you were still around.”

“And how do you know that.” Whatever unnecessary attraction was fizzling suddenly halts. Andrew can’t be happy about it; not when it’s under these circumstances.

Neil shrugs. When he speaks again, his tone is less playful. More serious. Andrew doesn’t think he’s ever heard Neil this serious. “I noticed. First week of school.”

“Try again. You weren’t in P.E. this year,” Andrew replies darkly.

Neil’s confusion is palpable. “No,” he agrees, obviously confused. “Freshman year.”

 _Freshman year? He—_ “You remember,” Andrew says, and he hates that he said it at all. It shouldn’t matter.

“Yeah, I remember.” Neil shrugs. “It’s kind of important.”

It is. It _is_ , but only to people that _care_ , and the attraction comes back with a vengeance. Andrew wonders if he could drown in the shower stalls and dismisses the idea. They drain too fast.

“Don’t turn around until I close my locker.”

“Sure.”

Andrew loses count of how many times he looks back at Neil, who stays stubbornly put and doesn’t even turn his head to the side.

He might slam his locker a little too hard.

☆

Neil scratches the back of his head and remembers he cut his hair. His nails make a pleasing noise when they move across his undercut. His haircut is an interesting mix of harsh edges and a completely untamed mess of curls at the top of his head. _80’s trash boy,_ Allison had proudly called it. It was her idea, with some input from Nicky.

“Your pronunciation is almost perfect,” Nicky announces as he flips through Neil’s homework. “Why are you even taking Spanish? You never get any of your homework wrong and your tests are all perfect scores.”

“It’s the only language I haven’t taken.” Neil shrugs. “It’ll look good on my transcript.”

“God, it must be hard to be perfect,” Nicky says sarcastically. He grins when he whacks Neil’s mop of curls with the rolled-up homework papers.

Andrew is across the lawn. He’s still in a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and he has very nice arms. He’s pretty strong, according to Kevin, who never does anyone any favors.

Which means Andrew is probably _really_ strong.

Nicky snickers. “You’re staring.”

“What?”

“It’s so adorable watching you check out my cousin.” Nicky pauses. “Just kidding. I mean it’s _appalling._ Why on God’s green earth would you look at _Andrew_?”

Neil rolls his eyes. He can’t argue that he wasn’t looking, so instead he asks, “Who do you suggest, then?”

“God. Aaron, even? I mean, they’re twins.”

“They’re nothing alike,” Neil mumbles. He raises his voice to add, “Anyway, are you honestly telling me to seduce him to cheat on Katelyn? I thought you liked her.”

Nicky groans overdramatically. Neil wonders why Nicky and Kevin don’t get along. They’re really both drama queens. “No, I’m not,” Nicky replies sadly. “And she’s okay, I guess. I don’t really know her.”

Neil hums in acknowledgment. He’s only half paying attention. Andrew is helping the field team disassemble some equipment. The game is tomorrow, and everything needs to be fresh for the game. The last game of the season.

It’ll certainly be a big one. _Speaking of big._ Andrew lifts a box over his head, expression bored. Neil wonders if he could be at the bottom of the pyramid. He thinks it would work.

“You’re sighing. _God_ , you’re sighing over _Andrew,_ ” Nicky complains despairingly.

“I am not.”

“I swear, one of these days I’ll get you both on camera pining at each other.”

“Let me know how that goes.” Neil snorts. “I bet Andrew would love you recording him without permission.”

☆

Andrew has the second-highest score in class.

It’s not possible.

“Someone cheated,” Andrew says. He snatches a Coke can from the fridge and shoves his phone back into his pocket. They’re supposed to be at the game in fifteen minutes, because Aaron insists on showing up on time to say hello to Neil and Katelyn.

Aaron is in the living room. He replies, voice raised to cross the distance, “Why do you say that?”

“Because I don’t have the highest score.”

There’s a pause. Andrew pops the tab on his soda and leans back against the kitchen counter. He stares spitefully at the clock and imagines it spinning quickly, too fast, and the game ending before he can leave the house.

Finally, Aaron pipes up. “Isn’t it possible someone else got a perfect score on everything?”

“No.” Andrew makes his way toward the living room. He doesn’t like the gleeful tone to Aaron’s voice. _He’s really thrilled someone beat me, isn’t he?_ “I know the roster for all periods. No one in Spanish III is smart enough to ace it.”

Andrew steps into the living room and sees Nicky barely restraining himself from speaking. His legs are bouncing with pent-up anticipation and his hands are curled on the edge of the sofa. Andrew narrows his eyes at his cousin and shoots a glare at Aaron.

Aaron is grinning. He wiggles his eyebrows at Nicky over his glasses.

Nicky, who helps the Spanish teacher grade. Nicky, who probably knows just who beat Andrew.

“You missed out on the spoken exam,” Nicky finally explains, a smug look settling on his face. “Neil aced both parts. I guess he just has the tongue for it.”

☆

Neil adjusts his shorts while he waits for Allison to show up. Dan is already checking the other girls’ ponytails. Jeremy is practically vibrating with excitement, his freckles interspersed with gold flecks. He insisted on drawing them on Neil, too. _They’ll look good from the bleachers._

“Hey.” Aaron is suddenly there, and Neil looks up, grinning. He can feel hair flopping over his eye and he impatiently blows it away. Aaron smiles a little and flicks the offending curl. “Nice haircut.”

“I like it,” Neil agrees, waving a hand vaguely near his head. “But I have no clue how I’m going to get all this glitter out. Jeremy has no control.”

Nicky snorts. “Yeah, I bet.” He grins appreciatively and scratches at Neil’s undercut. “Very hot, Neil. I bet you get so many numbers after the game.”

“Yeah, because that’s what I want,” Neil replies, rolling his eyes.

He only realizes that Andrew is there when someone calls Nicky’s name and Nicky moves off, wishing Neil luck before he goes.

Andrew is staring.

_Wait. He’s staring._

“What do you think?” Neil points to his head. As soon as the question leaves his mouth, he wants to take it back and bury himself in a hole. Andrew Minyard does not care about _anything_.

Andrew’s mouth flattens into a line. “I think you’re going to be late. Better move it, fly boy.”

Andrew does not say anything bad about Neil’s haircut and he calls him _fly boy_ and _oh my God,_ Neil thinks, _Andrew Minyard cares about me?_

He might even like Neil.

Neil doesn’t remember walking back to the cheerleaders’ waiting room, but he is suddenly face-to-face with Dan.

“Oh, boy,” she mutters. Her sigh is long-suffering, but the way she smiles makes Neil think she’s secretly happy. “Try to keep your head screwed on until the game is over, at least? He’ll be there when you’re done.”

 _I really hope so,_ Neil thinks. It would be a shame if Andrew left the game early as usual when Neil finally has a reason to ask to kiss him.

☆

Neil can really fly.

It’s not even a metaphor. It’s probably his small size that allows him to go so high; he manages to get a few inches on even Jeremy, who is basically the ultimate cheerleader.

Also. Neil somehow got permission to wear shorts and Andrew is not okay with whoever said yes.

Andrew pays attention to the game—of course he does; Matt, Kevin, and Jean are all on the team. Andrew can admit that they’re good, and he can admit that watching is interesting enough to keep his attention for a while.

The thing is, Andrew _really_ pays attention to the cheerleaders. To Neil, specifically.

At one point, he thinks he hears Nicky mumble something about _brothers think alike_ when Aaron almost falls off his seat because he’s leaning in to watch Katelyn. Andrew kicks Nicky’s shin.

Andrew can appreciate what Neil does on an athletic level. Neil absolutely flies, and he does so in a way that looks so effortless, Andrew almost doesn’t believe it’s real. Neil soars into the night sky and his stupid red hair is messy; his cheeks are flushed and his skin glitters with gold specks. He looks like some sort of young god’s lover—like any moment, Apollo will come and take him away from the mundane, grubby high school.

_And I am **not** waxing poetic about a gross, sloppy idiot that wears snapbacks._

Unfortunately, he is. Even internally.

The game ends with a win. The cheerleaders go wild, the crowd goes wild, and Andrew thinks he can see Kevin and his boyfriends in a huddle on the field. Jeremy abandons his position in favor of celebration, but it’s okay, because no one cares.

Everything after is a rush, like it usually is. Aaron goes to wait for Katelyn, because she’s riding with Matt and Dan, and everyone is going to get pizza after. The unspoken rule is that Andrew can leave because he always does.

Not tonight, though.

Andrew hangs around the field. The sky is pitch-black, and the stadium lights are too bright. He wants to leave, but he wants to find Neil more than he wants to escape.

The crowd thins and eventually, Andrew recognizes that Neil is still in the locker room. He’s probably the only one there. Andrew still knocks before he pushes the door open, and he finds Neil still in uniform on one of the benches.

“You’re still here.” Andrew resents the idea that he walked into something Neil planned.

Well. He resents it a little. He’d rather be calling the shots.

Neil suppresses a smile. It is the only thing that saves his skin. He is solemn when he says, “You came.”

“My brother likes to think you need looking after,” Andrew replies drily. It is true, but it is also a distraction. A half-lie, in context, and Andrew doesn’t lie. He forces his tongue to unstick from the roof of his mouth and adds, “It was a good game.”

“It was,” Neil agrees patiently. Andrew has the distinct impression they are talking about something other than lacrosse. “What have you heard about me, Andrew? Rumors?”

It comes out of left field. Andrew almost says _what_ , but he keeps his mouth shut until he can come up with an answer. “I don’t like rumors.”

“Humor me?” Neil crosses his legs. He’s still in the stupid godforsaken shorts. “You don’t have to—”

“You’re a runaway,” Andrew says bitterly. “You don’t date, and you’re probably ace or at least don’t like women.”

Neil hums in acknowledgement. He doesn’t seem bothered by the response. “I’m not a runaway,” he says, amused.

“Fine,” Andrew says. “You didn’t answer.”

Not the one question he needs answered.

Andrew almost says Neil doesn’t have to, but Neil is already shrugging. “I do like women. Dan, Allison, Renee. Some of the strongest people I know are women.”

“That’s not the same.”

“No. But you already know the answer,” Neil says, his smile widening.

Andrew curls his hands around the edges of his hoodie. “Do I?”

“You do,” Neil replies, rolling his eyes. “You knew I was a flyer.”

 _I did._ “That doesn’t mean anything. Straight people are allowed to like cheerleading,” Andrew says mockingly.

Neil groans and leans his head back against the lockers. Andrew has to actively fight staring at his neck. It is an uphill battle. “You didn’t listen. I said you knew _I_ was a flyer.”

_Oh._

“That still leaves one question,” Andrew says. It’s the only thing he can think of to say that doesn’t involve him pitifully spilling all his secrets.

It shouldn’t be so easy to talk to Neil.

“You know what else they call flyers?” Neil’s smile changes, languid, expectant. He is not answering the question.

“What,” Andrew says through gritted teeth.

Neil’s smile widens. He crosses his legs in the other direction and he’s not even _trying_ to hide. “The top.”

“Josten—”

“I’d date you,” Neil finally says, triumphant. He pulls his legs up onto the bench until he is kneeling there, and Andrew almost expects him to start stripping. He doesn’t even know what it means that he could imagine letting it happen. “If you wanted to.”

“One more question,” Andrew says. It takes all his strength to reign himself in while he steps up to Neil. He’s shorter than Neil like this, and Andrew is tempted to step up on the bench just to have higher ground.

Except Neil shifts and sits back on his heels, shrinking down until he is half an inch shorter than Andrew, and his wide blue eyes are expectant. The glitter on Neil’s face reflects in his gaze. “Ask me.”

“Yes or no?”

Neil leans closer. Andrew can feel Neil’s breath ghosting across his neck and he _hates_ that Neil isn’t closer. Neil pauses, hovering, his breath humid when he asks, “Yes or no to what?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Thought I’d have to ask,” Neil says. He grins and lifts his arms over Andrew’s shoulders, not touching yet. “Yes. May I?”

Andrew doesn’t even bother to clarify. He’s done waiting. “Yes.”

Neil drapes his arms over Andrew’s shoulders and Andrew’s hand fits right where he has always wanted it, on the back of Neil’s neck, fingers brushing against the day-old peach fuzz of Neill’s new haircut. Neil hums in pleasure and then they are kissing, and Andrew is only bitter for five seconds that they’re in the locker room. Neil is too good to care for long.

It’s especially nice when Andrew presses his tongue against Neil’s mouth and Neil moans unashamedly, his fingers twisting in Andrew’s shirt.

The last thing Andrew thinks for some time is, _he really is good with his tongue._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy! Boy, did I like writing the little internal monologues here. Yet another AU I'll have to revisit...


End file.
